


Mark Me Yours, Maybe Forever

by Silverinia



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Engagement, Episode Related, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Smut, love confessions -ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverinia/pseuds/Silverinia
Summary: an r-rated alternate ending to episode 4x19 'The Wheels Of Justice', aka a little private engagement/overcoming Diane's trust issues celebration, aka ~hopefully~ somewhat the proper ending for this episode we deserved
Relationships: Diane Lockhart/Kurt McVeigh
Comments: 18
Kudos: 45





	Mark Me Yours, Maybe Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baranskini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranskini/gifts).



> In the midst of... everything, I lost a bet to the marvellous, mad talented and lovely Baranskini, and she asked me to write her some sweet smut in return. So, here you go bitch <3 Thanks for always being so supportive and kind and sweet and fucking hilarious, and overall just for being a great friend. I hope this is what you were hoping for
> 
> On another note, I hope you guys are safe and healthy. The world is tough right now, and I hope every one who reads this has found a way to cope and to not give up hope. Because, you know, everything's going to be alright. It might just take some time and effort, but the world really can't be shit all the time.
> 
> Much love, xxx

> _I hope you know I trust in you,  
>  a strange new feeling that I’m asking to stay.  
> your unknown safety fades my fears away;  
> I’d like to get used to loving you.  
>   
> _

The champagne on his tongue tasted better than it ever had before.

The familiar taste was so utterly superior to the one she remembered from her very first glass, late at night during a family gathering as a fifteen year old girl, in a small, peaceful moment when her mother hadn’t been looking and her father had warmed up enough over countless shared anecdotes from the past that she was too young to remember and so many refills of well-aged, expensive bourbon in the crystal tumbler in his hand that either of their minds had lost count long ago, to be up for shenanigans; incomparable somehow even to the one she had had just moments ago, as if it had gone stale when he’d poured it in her glass while it had lived on in a small coat on his flesh, vibrant and with the same breath-taking intensity that seemed to surround him in the most mundane situations, like an unnecessary recall of how wonderful he was.

The taste of champagne from the bottle he had shared with her, even though he had never been particularly fond of it, never would have chosen it for tonight, not for anybody else. Just for her enjoyment, just to make her feel special. Just for her. Which, on the other hand, probably was all the enjoyment he was going to get out of any beverage, even if it was as complicated as the light yellow, bougie liquid that was prickling between their lips.

All for the woman in his arms who was more complicated, so much more challenging than anything else he had ever encountered in his life, and everything it had lacked up until now; now that he had her in his arms and for the very first time, knew that he did not have to fear that she would be gone again in the bittersweet blink of an eye, in a mere, quick beat of his pounding heart, as if his mind had made her up in a different place to torture him as soon as he would have to face his cruel, cold reality again she had eventually chosen not to be a part of.

He did not know that she would have been perfectly content with a bottle of beer of his choice, something that would never be what she would choose for her own enjoyment, but what she would have gratefully accepted for the same reason why their kisses tasted of champagne tonight.

Diane teased his tongue with the tip of her own, a small gasp escaping her when he deepened their kiss in answer, a reaction her own actions had so clearly asked for and still managed to catch her off-guard. His arms tightened around her, seeking for more, more of her weight for him to hold, more of her skin to touch his own. One of his hands reached down her back to blindly unclasp her lacy bra, the rough fabric that caught his chest hair in this perfected, and yet effortlessly teasing fashion that captured every single one of her movements, a sensation that could only be dethroned by the prickling edges of her pearly white fingernails wandering over his body in carefree intent. His other hand settled above her neck, his fingers flexing as they sank into her silky, blonde hair, as if the soft, golden strands held the power to free his muscles of all the tension that held him upright, the motion assuring her that he would hold her when she dipped her head back in the most welcomed form of defeat beneath his kiss. A form of defeat that had grown to become a regular practice over the last three years. One that washed her skin in the hot grasp of his protection she suddenly did not have to fear anymore.

Swiftly, her nails purposefully scratching the skin on his shoulders, she untangled her arms from his neck and quickly freed herself of the unwanted lace that was pressed so tightly between their chests that it seemed like they were ready to let it burst, and with it, anything else that would dare to try and find a way between them.

Their lips parted momentarily, barely an inch of air between them and still worlds away from what he wanted the unpleasant distance to be, as breathless, sound gasps escaped her against him in light and warm exhales, spilling on his lips as if to soothe the loss of hers on them like a child’s hurt finger.

She breathed, in and out, her fuzzy mind trying to see through the fog in her thoughts, as though they had dissolved to milky, grey streaks beneath his touch, as she tried to mentally prepare herself to open her eyes and meet his gaze. But she could not anyway, had never been able to and especially not right now, with his rough, strong hands roaming over her skin, as if they were seeking to touch every inch of her, just to find rest in this long lost purpose that had always seemed so impossible to fulfil, her body seeming so far out of reach even when she was right there with him.

His fingertips slid over her ribcage on either side of her breasts, and she suddenly wondered if he could feel the uneven pressure of her heart drumming against her bones from the inside, to then start questioning, if solely out of habit, whether or not she would have to feel embarrassed about it in case it was true. But before she could have finished the thought, her eyes shot open to the semi-darkness of the night on their own accord, the unrelenting impulse to look at him defeating all possible embarrassment she could have—and maybe would have—felt right now, if only the fog in her mind would have allowed her to see through it.

The cold light from the bright moon outside his bedroom window fell on his features in a way that should not have done anyone justice and she knew it surely wasn’t doing it to her; but he was just as handsome as he always was. So beautiful that it should not have been allowed, so beautiful that it would have seemed like an injustice to anyone else, had it not been so fitting to everything he was beyond his looks.

Her hand rose to his neck, her fingertips gliding past his hairline behind his ear, passing the patch of skin he always fumbled with during the rare appearances of his nervousness, while her thumb roamed along the rough, grey strands of his beard. She loved the way it looked on him, loved the way it felt against her skin. But she had loved the moustache just the same. And maybe it was not about his facial hair anyway, maybe she had just fallen in love with the mere task of looking at him, no matter where, no matter when, as long as it was Kurt.

And suddenly, his brows furrowed above the glint in his dark green eyes that almost looked black in the darkness, as if their usual fir green was caught in the middle of drowning in his arousal, when her soft giggle lit up the night in his house, like a single sound she made in it had the power to fill the wooden walls with life for the first time in the sixteen years he had called it his home, and to make it feel like home in a way it strangely never had before.

“What?”, he asked, smiling at her in adoration of her oddity and the way it fascinated him like nothing else ever had, the simple challenge of trying to figure her out like a puzzle he both craved to solve to be able to understand every corner, every little line, every last detail she had to offer and to accurately place it in the bigger picture that was her, and at the very same time never wanted to finish to forego having to let the exploration come to an end.

She shook her head and met his gaze again. And her voice was so much softer than he had expected it to be, nothing like the mocking comment he had thought she would make, as though the lightest gust of wind from outside could have hindered him from hearing it.

But he had shut the windows hours ago before she even had arrived, had turned the thermostat higher than he had in a long time. Because he knew she would have been cold in here otherwise.

“Why does this feel so different tonight?”, she asked, her voice almost a whisper, her blue eyes beaming up at him, bright and vulnerable and more beautiful than anyone ever could have made up, especially him, someone who had never had an eye for beauty. But not even he could have missed it when it was so openly displayed right there for him to adore.

His lips twitched aside, his eyes knowingly watching hers, as if he were already two steps ahead of her, like every last thing between them was a possible challenge, every exchanged word another opening to fall into debate, but never too challenging to become impossible or even slightly less desirable. “Different in a good way?”, he shot back expectantly.

Diane tilted her head in feigned consideration, her hand wandering up from his shoulder so she could capture his face between her palms. And she looked him in the eyes, with such pure adoration and bare love that it seemed like she was holding the entire world in her hands. “I think I could get used to it.”, she said, her voice soft like her skin beneath his touch.

His smile widened between her fingers and he shook his head. “You better.”, he said, and one of her brows arched up playfully.

“Oh? Or else?”

“Or else…” His voice trailed off, his eyes shortly letting go of hers to fly past her in staged thoughtfulness that almost mirrored her own, before he suddenly dipped his head again and closed the gap between their lips, tongue-first and hasty, like all resistance to kiss her he’d had left in him to hear her speak had been spent ages ago, the first time he’d kissed her, the very second they’d met.

His tongue ran across the roof of her mouth as her eyes fluttered closed, barely having the time to properly fall shut before a soft moan escaped her, muffled against him, maybe into him to let the remainders of the sound that had not made it into the warm bedroom air mingle with the air in his lungs instead, the only way in which she could have fallen in love with being cut off by anyone, even by him.

Their tongues danced in the clock pulse of their hearts, to a melody only they were able to hear, a sound that had been missing for too many months of lost togetherness, simultaneously in harmony and in battle, as though the battle, the constant back and forth between them might have been the actual foundation of their harmony, of the reason why this could possibly work so well if they made an effort to do it together, of everything that made the foresight of a future they would get to spend in unison so appealing and so impossible to resist. To keep dancing in step, to make the melody eternal.

His movements slowed and she slowed down with him, even though she could have claimed their original pace and with it, his defeat. But somehow, with him, the thought of defeating him did not seem nearly as intriguing as carrying on together.

A soft whimper she could not hold back was pressed out of her strained lungs when he broke their kiss and leaned up again, causing her eyes to reluctantly open and meet the glint in his dark eyes that could have been the death of her if he would let it.

“I’ll make you.”, he finished, the breathlessness in his voice doing little to overshadow the low octave of mocking complacency underneath, something she would have frowned upon had he been any other man. But he wasn’t.

And she knew that if he had wanted to, he could have made her do anything he pleased, knew it by heart because of the way he had made her want this. To be in his arms, to melt beneath his every touch, to feel the shiver in her spine when she heard his voice, to want him like he wanted her, so much that it had convinced her to consider sticking around. And to have fallen in love with the idea as she had fallen in love with him, so thoroughly and all-consuming that her doubts no longer had the power to shine through the mist he had begun to place in her head the moment he had walked into her office for the very first time three years ago, the fog that was growing more and more opaque as they grew closer and closer together.

“Oh, I’m _so_ scared.”, Diane crooned exaggeratedly, her voice higher than usual to emphasize her amusement, shaking her head while she cast him a humoured look, when out of nowhere, the smug expression on his face drifted off and was replaced by a look so serious that it almost seemed misplaced.

“Are you?”, he asked quietly after a moment of silence.

She tilted her head, her facial features softening, like a wordless request for him to mirror her movements, unable to stand the way the look on his face reflected everything she had so forcefully pulled between them during the past years that had inevitably found a way to plant doubts in his head. This was not him trying to pressure her. This was his sincere search for an honest answer, no matter if it would be easy to swallow or not.

It had been three years. And the concern in his eyes, the time that had passed since she had met him were enough for her to realize that no matter what power he held over her, he would never dare to use it against her.

“No.”, she said, her voice steady, her eyes pleading him to believe her. It would not have been his fault if he didn’t, she had already done enough to deter him from her and shake off his trust in what they could possibly become if only they would give this a chance.

But the smile that crept over his lips, and the way he leaned down to let them capture hers, the way he kissed her like a sigh of relief, they all proved her wrong as he had always loved to do.

Kurt’s arms slung tightly around her frame, pressing her bare chest against his as if he were trying to combine the two to create a deeper, impossible and yet so desirable form of unity, he provided the comfort, the safety he had always been willing to offer her, the protection that every touch of his skin, every kiss of his lips, every word that rolled off his tongue radiated like, in a better world, it could have illuminated the darkest of her hours, the coldest of her nights. The safety in him she had always wanted to keep, if only a trace of it to have it without reserve when that was all she could grant herself, that she would be able to put in a jar and save for bad days, to open it and inhale a breath of his scent, the smell of the slightest touch of his warm fingers on her skin, that would simply and so effortlessly give her a small piece of his vanished presence and make her better, cautious not to get carried away and waste the last trace she had of him all in one moment of painful finality. The safety she finally allowed herself to accept.

Slowly, her movements a sharp, teasing contrast to the hasty pace of their lips, one of her hands left his cheek and wandered down, sneaking between their bodies before her palm settled beneath the eagle-shaped metal of his belt buckle. The varnished material was almost hot from being pressed against her own abdomen, warm against the inside of her wrist as her fingernails scraped along the prominent bulge beneath his washed-out blue jeans.

Kurt’s hips twitched sharply, his fingers curling into a tight fist, a harsh pull on her hair, and a breathless moan escaped her, meeting the single syllable he groaned lowly into the lock of their lips.

“Di.”

And it was so plain, so simple how a single word out of his mouth threatened to be enough to let her knees give in under her weight, a cliché she had never thought she would find herself in one day and still could not deny it the way it tempted her when she found herself in it with him.

Because he caught her. His arms around her frame keeping her upright, even when his hips thrusted into her hand as her fingers kept roaming over the jeans fabric on his hardening erection, even when she winced in his grasp as his hands wandered down her back to settle on her ass, his tightening grip letting the rough lace of her panties scratch across a new coat of wetness her body so easily offered him, teasing her clit without even really touching her.

She whimpered against him, her parted lips widening around the tension in her core, the sparkle in her lower abdomen a sure foresight of what was yet to come, and around the twitching hardness against her clenching hand. It felt like she could feel his pulse against her palm, his heart through her own.

Slowly, as if in caution about his hold on her, she let go of his cheek, stretching her neck in a blind, mindless search for more of his lips against hers, more of his tongue asking her own to keep on dancing, more of his taste, the taste of champagne and the taste of him that made it all the more richer, so much more pure, as her hands met on the warm metal of his belt.

The eagle-shaped buckle she could have unclasped in her sleep because it was the one he always wore, the one he had first confronted her with in a tipsy state in his hotel room on their first date, enough time and several occasions alike that she could not have counted and still would never get enough of having passed until today for her to have grown acquainted with the quickest way to open it. It was one of the little things that had never changed when it came to him, the belt, the flannel shirts, his washed-out blue jeans, and his boots. His facial hair against her skin, the deep comfort she had always felt with him, and this strange feeling about him that had always plagued her mind to an intolerable state of forlornness, even more when she had managed to identify what it was, and that had just recently turned into a new layer of comfort, familiarity and eventually trust. Her love for him that had been laid out so prominently frightening before her, right from the beginning.

She pulled the zipper down, her hands wandering to his sides and her thumbs swiftly slipping into his jeans, when a sudden, deep gasp escaped her as he pulled her hips into his, the jeans fabric that covered his erection bumping against her clit through the dainty, sharp lace of her panties that surely was about to leave a wet stain on his pants.

His hands on her ass guided her heat over his hard length, roaming up and down, her legs parting by instinct to gain more friction, more of him, and his fingers closed around her right thigh, lifting it up to help her. The moan in her throat combined with his groan and her eyes shot open in a split second of confusion when his lips broke away from hers to settle on her neck, right beneath her jaw, a spot he knew would take her breath away.

“God, I need you.”, he mumbled against her skin, his voice low and rasped in his greedy desire, and her hands clenched into fists, her fingers digging into the waistband of his jeans before she pulled him in and held him close, the sensation leaving no time for her to relish in the sudden grunt that he could not hold back, her mind too full of him to play around. To have him want her, to feel the way he wanted her pressing to tightly against her core, and to hear him say that he needed her.

In all her life, she had never felt so perfect, so worthy of something so utterly beautiful as his love.

She tilted her head aside, her teeth gently closing around the shell of his ear before she soothed the small marks with a leisurely flick of her tongue. “Then have me.”, she whispered into his ear.

He remained still for another moment in which she felt her breathing getting heavier again, the anticipation she felt every time he made her wait for a reaction induced by the vulnerability she was laying bare in front of him, with her words from earlier in her office, the ones from two nights ago in his room at the Edgewater, and the ones she had just whispered into his ear like it were nothing more than a tool to seduce him, when they both knew it was so much more than that.

He placed another kiss on her neck, letting a shiver run down her spine that he must have felt on her skin. But it was okay. She wanted him to know. He deserved to feel it. And he leaned up and found her gaze, one of his brows furrowed above his black orbs, where arousal, his need for her he had never cared to hide, mingled so openly with all the love he had to give. Pure, uncoated love for her, so raw and bare that the need within her to look away to protect it from her sight, to protect it from her and all the ways she could have harmed it almost took over again in one of her old habits that were always so hard to overcome.

But it wasn’t hard to keep looking at it. And it was not hard to allow him to see her return it. It wasn’t hard at all, because he made it so very easy.

His hand wandered up from its place on her ass until he could tuck a few stray strands of blonde hair from her forehead behind her ear, his fingers coming to rest against her cheek.

“I love you.”, he said, and she knew he was not saying it in demand for a real answer.

But she knew that it was what he deserved and that it had probably always been everything he had needed from her. She knew that she could no longer keep from him that she obviously loved him too, so much that for years it had seemed easier to push him away, if only it meant that she would not get to let them take the reign over her. Feelings were what made life so deeply complicated, feelings were glazed with the power to leave people utterly disturbed, were the origin of what made them get hurt or fall into a silly, blissful state of humane simplicity.

But she also knew by now what it felt like to have to wave him goodbye and force him out of her life again with the ever-betrayed intention of never daring to turn back again, before he might have gotten the chance to do it to her first. And no matter how scary this was, nothing was scarier than the thought of not giving him the chance he deserved. Him. The man she had probably loved from the very first moment on. And a little more, all over again, with each moment that had followed since.

If there was anyone worth the risk, it was him.

One corner of her lips twitched aside. “I love you, too.”, she answered.

And if she’d thought that he had been looking at her with love before, it did not even begin to compare to what she saw in his eyes now.

Kurt dipped his head down, his lips barely capturing hers, parting them softly as if to say that he would keep her secure. As if he was promising to catch her when she fell for him.

His arms suddenly lifted her up, his chest pressing against hers as she blindly slung her arms around his neck, chuckling into the light embrace of his mouth as he walked them over to the bed before he gently lowered her on the cotton sheets.

Her arms still wrapped around his shoulders, she opened her eyes and cast him a smile. “I can walk, you know?”

“I know.”, he said and one of her brows arched up.

“Honey, there’s no need to rub your chivalry under my nose, I think we’re pretty well acquainted at this point.”

Kurt shrugged, his hand rising, and he dipped his index finger against the tip of her nose. “It’s a cute nose.”, he remarked, the smile he had been trying to hold back in order to look serious taking over when she chuckled, before she pulled him down, inviting him in for another kiss, the longing in her to feel him like there could never be enough.

Her chest arched into his touch when his hand cupped her breast, squeezing it in a way that made her gasp, his thumb twirling over her hard nipple before his fingers continued on their path, further down, until he brushed two fingertips over slick, dainty lace.

Her knees parted more widely, her hips rising on his accord. Hungrily, she accepted his tongue as it pushed past her lips and swallowed her groan.

She knew him. She could tell from the pace of his breathing how much her words had meant to him, could tell from the taste of his kiss and the leisurely pace in the roaming of his fingertips on her heat, not sneaking beneath the champagne white lace of her panties and not yet making an effort to rid her of the unwanted fabric, not wandering higher, nor lower to give her the slightest taste of relief her soul was aching for through her body, knew in what way he intended to put her pleasure before his tonight. And she was not going to complain.

He was everything she could have wanted, and maybe, possibly so much more than that, the pace he set was the one she longed to follow, even though it was so far away from everything she had always thought to be what she should want. Because she knew that she could trust that it would be what she needed.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, held himself above her while he met her pleading gaze, his index and middle finger parting and meeting, up and down in cruel, torturously slow movements in which they retraced the curves of her swollen labia.

And he finally sat back, his thumbs slipping beneath her panties above her hipbones and she raised her hips as he pulled them off in a swift movement.

His dark eyes roamed over her body, his gaze taking in every inch of her, wandering along her legs, over her abdomen and up her chest until they settled on the bright blue of her eyes.

And even though he had not cared to deny it earlier, she was right. This indeed felt different tonight. It felt different to kiss her, to taste the champagne mingling with the familiar taste of herself on her lips, like he had wasted every other minute of his life because he should have been kissing her like this all along. It felt different to hear her speak, because in every sound she made she was honest with him in a way she had never been before, no unspoken words between them, no room to second-guess if this really was the right decision. And it felt different to look at her.

He had seen her naked before of course, more times than he could have counted, enough times to make her beauty familiar, but it felt like this was the first time she was ready to really lie fully bare in front of him, her clothes discarded on his bedroom floor, her gaze locked with his and directly with it, no walls between them that had always seemed so transparent at times like these, only to prove him wrong as soon as the moments had ran out of time and they had solidified around her again before he had gotten the chance to try and convince her to stick around this time.

But she was right there with him, with nothing between them to fool the moment.

Her soft voice, her hand that gently cupped his on the bedsheet pulled him out of his thoughts again. “You okay?”

She had pushed herself up on her forearm, the fingers of her other hand drawing mindlessly perfect patterns on the back of his hand, the masterpiece of a touch, nearly too perfect to be wasted on his skin. The cool moonlight fell on her body like it was shining just to ignite her and for him to be able to look at her, the shadows it cast on the curve of her side, wider along her chest, taking a turn at her waist and widening again on her hip, as though even something superior as the moon itself was lost in their own craving to become one with her.

Kurt shook his head, snorting over his sudden giddiness only she had ever thrown him off-guard with. “Yes, sorry. It’s just…”

Shaking his head again, he shifted his hand so he could take hers, internally cursing himself for the fact that he could not seem to find the right words, as he so often didn’t. It just normally did not bother him as much because conversations usually weren’t half as meaningful as the ones he had with her.

“You’re beautiful.”, he finished, and it was an understatement, his words not even close to describe what he had wanted to say, wanted her to know.

Because she wasn’t just beautiful. She was absolutely stunning, so gorgeous that it nearly made him question his perception.

Diane’s eyes widened beneath her furrowed brows, her front teeth shortly capturing the bottom one before her lips parted to momentarily curl around silence neither of them had expected. And before she could have looked away, before she could have shrugged his words off to move on with a disclaiming, sarcastic comment or a disbelieving, awkward chuckle, her face softened in a smile.

“Thank you.”, she whispered, her low voice tinted in uncharacteristic bashfulness.

His fingers closed around her hand, guiding it to his lips so he could place a soft, lingering kiss on her knuckles, his eyes locked with hers while his fingertips began to run over her inner thigh. Gently, he lowered her hand back on the mattress, pushing her knee next to it to widen her parted legs, and he was just about to lean in, when she interrupted him.

“Wait.” Her finger slipped into one of the belt loops on his waistband. “Let me see you first.”

Her eyes were light, the darkness in the room, the darkness of her arousal not doing much to dim the expressive brightness of the blue in them. It followed his movements as if in an attempt to lend him a little of her light when he pushed himself up between her legs and hastily pulled off his opened jeans and boxers, his erection springing free, not willing to waste any more time before his watering mouth at the anticipation of her taste could have robbed him of the last of his senses.

He tossed the clothes on the floor, his hands landing on either of her thighs, his eyes searching for her gaze to see it slowly, almost too slowly, wandering up from his hips, to meet his. Her lips were slightly parted, the tip of her tongue darting out to swipe over the lower one, and she assumed he was not in the place to notice how her chest was rising and falling deeper and faster at the mere sight of him. But maybe he could feel the increase of her heartbeat, maybe, somehow, he would be able to feel it in the air between them. At least that was what she hoped.

His eyebrow suddenly bounced up and she tilted her head in question.

“You okay?”, he asked playfully, his voice mimicking her prior tone. His fingertips, rough and warm, were roaming over her inner thighs, up and down, too far down, and not high enough, too far away from where she wanted them, too far away from where she was so painfully ready for him, dripping and wet.

And she beamed up at him, her hand reaching out so she could run her fingers through his hair. “You’re beautiful, too.”

His lips twitched aside, before they softly covered hers. Her skin would be irritated tomorrow from all the ways his beard had already been scratching over it tonight, but it did not matter. It was the sweetest kind of irritation she could have imagined, another layer of the way he liked to tease her, with his spare words and their contents when he eventually allowed them to slip from his mind, with his teasing touch, leaving her body aching for more of him.

With his love. Because it almost seemed to be too ridiculously good to be hers, whenever he so willingly let her have it; his heart on her sleeve, and hers captured in his pulse. It made everything else she had ever valued in life, everything she had put first before them until now seem so small, so very pointless in comparison.

A soft moan escaped her when his lips wandered to her neck, and she felt his erection twitching against her thigh in answer to the sound. There was something beautiful about this, she thought when his lips closed around her left nipple, sucking on it and soothing it in circling motions of his tongue, something beautiful about how his undoing seemed to be hers in part, as if they were sharing the same amount of energy, both feeling it increase when one of them managed to gain more, both feeling the strain on it when one of them had to drink from it, like they were stuck in an endless circle of giving and taking from one another. How beautiful it was that she could trust in him to work with her on keeping it even.

His head rose, freeing her nipple with a soft pop and he was just about to lower himself on her right breast when her fingers curled in his hair, pulling on it to keep him up and meet his gaze.

“Kurt.”, she moaned softly. Her chest was rising and falling, quicker than it usually did, even when he had her in this position, and he swallowed a deep groan when he felt her hips colliding with his, leaving a hot, wet trail on the top of his thigh. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”, he said with a smirk on his lips, his fingers pinching her nipple to emphasize his point.

She gasped, then shook her head. “Kurt, please.”, she whimpered.

And he would not deny her wishes, especially not when they were so clearly aligned with his. The teasing between them only went so far these days, his need for her that just solidified more and more every time he got to see her again too strong, the time they usually had together before they would inevitably part their ways again in uncertainty if this time it had eventually been the last too limited, too important to play with, too sparse to waste.

He loved her. And he needed her.

And he laid down, settled between her legs, his fingers gently pushing her thighs further apart. She was so wet, her lips glistening in the soft moonlight, and he felt his mouth watering at the sight, a low groan escaping him under his breath.

Kurt looked up, finding her gaze, and watched her as he parted her lips with his tongue, a shudder running through his body at the first taste of her in the sweet rhythm of her moan.

He kissed her lips like he had always kissed her, fully and headless, as if he were in fear that it could be a kiss goodbye that might take, his tongue sliding over her flesh, every now and then dipping the tip past her entrance, only ever enough to be prolonging and never enough to let this come to an end. His beard, soon lightly coated in her sticky arousal, bit her inner thighs as his teeth nibbled around her clit.

Diane’s hand in his hair suddenly closed in a tight fist, her hips scooting up so forcefully that he almost lost his increasing grip on her. She might wake up with bruises tomorrow, able to count his fingertips in the blue pattern they were painting on her skin, would complain about it and secretly find herself catching her breath whenever she saw them and the memories they would bring back from tonight. A night that would just last forever if she wanted it to.

Her blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze, not half as reprehensive as she had intended it to be, finding his and another raspy moan escaped her at the way he was looking at her, his dark green eyes drinking in every trace, every inch of pleasure in her parted lips, her flushed cheeks and rising chest, while his mouth was drinking up everything she could offer him in return, like he was a dying man and she was the only thing that could keep him alive.

“More!”, she sighed exasperatedly, her hips pushing forward and the hair above his lips pricked on her clit. Her thighs twitched in his hands, her eyes rolling into the back of her head when his tongue pushed into her again, deeper his time, pulling a muffled groan from him when he felt her slick walls softly clenching around it, before he drew it up, spreading the delicious mixture of his saliva and her wetness on her swollen flesh, stopping again just before he reached her clit and momentarily delighting in the desperate groan that escaped her.

“You bastard.”, she muttered through a heavy exhale, and he grinned against her. She was pulling on his hair, almost painfully trying to tuck him higher where she was throbbing for him. Slowly, he traced a circle around her clit before he lowered his lips on her again and stilled, his eyes on her.

“Diane.”, he said, every letter of her name voiced against her in his low drawl vibrating through her body.

“Hm?”, she hummed through a deep breath, the fingers of her free hand brushing her hair back, if only to have something to hold onto.

And with a quick, sharp tuck of his front teeth on her clit, he had her crying out, gained her sole attention, had her right where he wanted her to be. As his, for a period of time that would survive the moment. For a period of time someone else might have wanted to call forever.

“Look at me.”, he said, his hands holding her down, his thumbs pressing roughly into her hipbones when his tongue flicked against her clit beneath his words. Her shaky hand untangled from her steadily dampening hair, finding the mattress next to her and pushing her upper back from the bedding, her chest curving into his sight, the blue of her eyes revealing itself to him beneath her heavy, long lashes. “Watch me.”

And before she could have finished nodding, his lips closed around her clit, sucking it into his mouth and coaxing a high shriek from her.

“Oh god, yes!”

He had never been religious, always trusted in facts rather than opinions. But the way she screamed for god beneath his touch almost made him believe that it had to be true.

Her hand clenched in his hair, her wetness bleeding out of her entrance and running down her ass to leave a stain on his cotton sheets, like another part of her that would stay with him, the night she had chosen to stay with him as long as he would let her, and longer if she may.

His tongue reached down, catching a trace of her taste that he could not bear to let go to waste, shortly diving deep into her, a movement that had her thighs tensing in protest against his restraining hold on her and pulled another raspy moan from her, a raw sound that arched into a scream when his lips sucked in her clit between them again, the length of his tongue rolling flatly over her flesh.

Her eyes were nearly closed, the strain in her panting breath, in her breathless voice telling him how much it took her to keep looking at him, while her instincts were telling her to let them fall closed and to let it all go, to flee from his gaze and concentrate on his touch without having to face their roots. The battle between her flight instinct and her love for him, something that had had her torn for longer that she had been ready to let him know. And they both knew that the instinct was still there, and that it would probably stay with them for as long as it pleased. But she had chosen a finite winner today. And with her choice, she had also settled that she would never have to face the battle on her own anymore.

He was not even sure if she knew this, but he would never dare to let her have to keep on fighting by herself. No matter how bloody or hopeless it would get, no matter how ugly and brutal it could feel, there was no place he would rather be than at her side, even when it would be dark at times when she could not find her way, and even when she would occasionally try to push him out.

Because he loved her. Loved every sound she made, every way in which she showed him so blatantly why he loved her, loved all the complications she carried into his life like he loved all the pleasures she brought with her, too. And he knew that she was ready to do the same for him. That she would not hesitate for a second to cherish his flaws as she kept falling for whatever she found lovable about him. He could not figure out what exactly it might have been, but he knew that she probably felt the same about herself. And maybe that was what they really had in each other, maybe this was what made this night so significantly different from all those prior; the fact that they were finally all that they could have been but never actually had been from the start. The fact that they at last openly recognised that what they had in each other was special in a way that brought a new meaning to the concept of love, to relationships, and an idea of forever neither of them had really dared to believe in anymore.

And believing in it always was a dangerous path to follow. But now, as they looked into each other’s eyes, as she let him touch her soul through the intimate touch of her body and as he let her touch his with her bodily reaction and everything she let him see behind, it did not seem dangerous anymore, not when they knew that they were in this together, equally and by choice, and that no matter how scary the path might become once the daylight of new beginnings would fade into the night, the other would only be a grasp away, ready to guide them through this with the mere squeeze of a hand, a soft, meaningful gaze through the darkness. To create a ‘together’ that almost seemed too good to be true, but when they had it with each other, it just didn’t.

Kurt’s arm shifted, his left hand momentarily giving up his tight grasp on her hip to sneak between the back of her thigh and the bedsheet, the fabric slightly damp with her sweat. His elbow had been pressing into her tense inner thigh all this time, but she had not seemed to mind, would only fully notice it in sweet, delicious retrospect in the morning when she would get up to shower in his bathroom, share some coffee and a nice conversation with him in the kitchen, wearing one of his flannel shirts and a smile on her lips that still seemed too pure, too honest to belong to her until it would grow familiar over the years in the certainty of his presence in her life, in the certainty of their lives evolving to form a better one if combined. And he would shrug off her playful reprehension about the purple marks on her thighs with a smile of his own over the knowledge that every bruise was a mark of his love and that she actually wore them with pride. The knowledge of that she was willing to wear his love on her skin forever and that his willingness to give it to her for as long as his heart would keep pounding for her in his chest would never go to waste.

Kurt’s forearm settled on her hip, his hand widely displayed on her lower abdomen, on the soft, pale skin that covered her clenching muscles. And he held her down when another flick of his tongue, another deep suck of her clit threatened to shut her eyes, held her down when his right hand left her hipbone, and wandered lower before he suddenly pushed two digits into her.

She was soft and hot and wet, and he was rough and hard, and it was one of their opposites that made the friction so breath-taking, the tension between them so irresistible. Because it should not have worked, them together, they should not have gotten along, they shouldn’t have fallen in love when neither of them had anticipated that it was possible to find the realisation of a dream in each other they had more or less consciously given up on long ago, shouldn’t have found it in one another when the odds seemed to be so invincible. They were so different, so dedicated to their own lives.

But it worked, they worked despite everything that had once appeared to stand irrevocably in their way. And it only served to make this even more intriguing.

He pushed roughly in her heat, his gaze momentarily so entranced by her sight that it took him a moment to taste her lips again, as though a part of him felt that it could have been too much for her to take at once, too much to receive to keep up with, the sudden stimulation of her g-spot with every precisely aimed thrust of his fingers combined with the taste of her and the taste of him on her flesh. He swallowed hard, her serenade of high moans causing a knot to form in his throat, the tension in what little control he had to hold onto as she had to hold onto his hair and the mattress beneath her to grant him the sight of her, the little control he had left to resist straddling her and pushing his throbbing, hard erection into her walls that were contracting around his fingers, less and less in time with her breathing, and more and more in time with the pace of their dance.

She was close, so deliciously close that he craved to taste it, the tension in her body, the contractions in her abdomen, the shivers beneath her skin through the dripping wetness that coated her flesh in a sheer gleam in the moonlight.

Kurt’s tongue darted out, pressing between her lower lips like her thighs were pressing against his cheeks, parting them beneath his touch as the movement widened the gap of her parted mouth, widening the egression for the heavenly sinful sounds that escaped her, just for his touch to continue, just for him, an audience of one whose attention would always be more meaningful, more rewarding than all other human beings the world had to give combined. As long as he listened, as long as he would understand, there was no one else she wanted to be able to hear.

Slowly, almost gently in a painful contradiction to the way his fingers were plunging into her, he licked her clit in a drawn-out brush with the length of his tongue, as if to soothe the damage he had done in bringing her so close to her undoing, like a wordless apology for overwhelming her with his feelings. Diane’s eyes fell shut for a small moment of frustration that took over her body like the fog in her head was taking over her mind, before she tucked him roughly against her, the stubbly hair above his lips curling into her wetness, making her gasp for air she could not seem to get, her hips attempting to meet his mouth, the touch of his hand midway, but failing against his strong hold on her that kept pressing her into the bed.

And she dared to meet his eyes, her uneven breathing catching in her throat when her gaze linked with his in the semi-darkness.

“Oh god, Kurt! Please!”, she cried out, and his hand stilled.

Her cheeks were flushed, her brows curled in frustration over how close she was standing to the edge while the peak still felt so far out of reach, because he was both, standing in her way and the only one who had ever been able to lead her all the way there, the combination of pleasure and love that met in the way he touched her incomparable to anything, anyone else she had ever known. The smudgy layer of lipstick on her open mouth, the noisy breath she could not seem to catch in the unwanted breaks he forced her to take, slipping off her tongue, sounding like the musical setting of the sun’s laughter at sunrise, the stars’ nightly whispering on love voiced through the brightness in her eyes, the moon’s lullaby for those looking for sleep, a peaceful tune to capture the restless and let them find peace in the sound, the comfort, the blind understanding between them that felt like a more intimate exchange than the way he was touching her, in her love.

He had never felt restless, never felt misunderstood, before she had shown him what the opposites felt like when she was with him. And now he needed it, needed it like he needed to eat, to drink, needed to breathe, as if having her in his life in the way she was now had become a necessity with no existing substitutes. He needed her like she needed him. And he would hold on to her as long as she would let him.

His lips were still lingering over hers when he suddenly dipped down and captured her wet flesh in a soft kiss, looking into her eyes, showering her body in the hot temperature of intimacy none of their prior nights together had ever managed to reach. She almost found herself wondering, heard the question voiced in her head like a mumble through the thick haze between her thoughts, why this wasn’t making her uncomfortable, what on earth was different about tonight that did not have her escape his gaze and flee from his love by choosing to focus on the physical part of this, the one she could touch, the one that had never seemed as dangerous as the one that would change their lives forever, no matter if it would end well or not.

But when his soft kiss suddenly turned to a rough suck and his fingers crushed into her with new vigour, curling up alternately and fast until she saw stars, all the doubts she had in herself, all the fears that accompanied everything wonderful that made their love unique, made them Diane and Kurt, seemed too surreal to keep on wasting more of their shared energy on them, more effort she might as well invest in trying to ever make him happy in the same way he did it for her.

Because this was real. This was more truthful than anything she had ever felt in her life. Him, right here with her, making her scream so loud that she could not even hear it herself over the ringing in her ears, the blinding sound that was pure extasy, the maddening waves of pleasure rushing through her body that were pure love.

Love. It was present like not a single reason that had always kept her from accepting it had ever been. It was present as though she could always confide in it.

And he was real. So real that it seemed like she could always believe in how nothing in the world, all the darkness of life, could ever defeat it.

Love. So deep, so true that it would always be right there with her, as long as she did not stop believing in it.

A sheer layer of sweat covered her skin, her body tossing and turning, aching beneath all her love for him. If this was what his feelings for her felt like, it was almost too good to receive, had it not captured all her feelings for him in return in such a beautifully accurate way.

It was so bright that she could not see through it, so perfectly wonderful that it did not leave room for the trace of a shadow. It was hope. Hope in a strength she had never seen before. Hope that so easily made her believe that combined, their love would conquer it all.

Her fingers had uncurled from his hair, both her forearms now pressing into the mattress, tight fists clinging to the bedding, making a mess of it as he brought out the mess within her. He was still sucking on her clit, maybe in light flicks of his tongue, maybe just as harshly, just as intense as he had had for the past minutes, maybe hours. She didn’t remember, could not even figure out what was the present because no matter what it was, it was too intense, too much more than anything she had ever felt before, so easily overshadowing every other sense, anything else in the world.

She could not open her eyes, or maybe she had and just could not awaken her sight, could not pull his head away from her because if her hand would leave the bed, she’d lose her balance and deny him the only wish he had voiced all night, to let him keep looking at her.

And she did not know how to articulate it, what she wanted to say like a new wave of undefined, shapeless mist in her head, nothing to form words of, no instructions on how to compress her uncontrolled, raspy screams into something just a little more intelligible.

Except for a single thing that shone through the nebulous havoc.

“Kurt!”, she pressed out of her lungs, and she did not know what it was, something in the tone of her strained voice, the small attempted shift of her hips away from his touch, something in her eyes if he was even able to see them, she did not know. But whatever it was, it made him understand.

Slowly, his fingers slid out of her, her walls contracting around him, contradicting her request, aching for him to stay, even though her body would not be able to take any more, until they clenched around unsatisfactory emptiness. He pressed a last, gentle kiss on her throbbing, sensitive clit that pulled another cry from her, panting moans continuing to escape her as he untangled his arm from her leg and pushed himself up, his body hovering above hers when she finally allowed her arms to give in beneath her.

She blinked heavily, the dark, sparkling circles in her sight slowly beginning to form the sight of his gaze, the black, affectionate look in his widened pupils, as if he were high on her undoing, unable to feel his own body because it was too full of sensations, just like hers. But she could feel him, his weight against the shivers in her lower abdomen, his erection, hard and so tense that it must have hurt against her hip, the scent of his breath, Kurt and champagne and her own salty sweetness that was so megalomaniacally standing before the prior.

His lips parted, his glistening fingers rising between them and he greedily took a last taste of her as he watched her slowly, very slowly, coming back to him from her high, as if she had ever been gone, as if even something as blinding as this could have gotten in between her and the ever-present love for him.

Her eyes fell closed again and she swallowed hard, still struggling to catch her breath, before she looked at him again through her glassy gaze. She had not noticed until just now that her eyes were teary from the strain on her body, on her soul, from the most beautiful feeling anyone ever must have experienced.

His wet fingers brushed into her damp hair, pushing a few strands of blonde curls off her forehead before his fingertips traced over her bottom lip. She could smell their unison on his skin, her wetness and his saliva meeting on her lip and the tip of her tongue darted out on its own accord, meeting the taste on her flesh in perfect harmony that caused her thighs to tremble against him.

A dark grown escaped him when her tongue, hot, soft and wet, brushed against his fingertips, and he suddenly pulled them away, his fingers closing around her hand, their palms meeting, perfectly shaped for each other as if their embrace had always been the sole purpose of their existence, his weight pressing the back of her hand into the mattress as he leaned down to kiss her, blandly and gentler than she had expected. And somehow the soft moments between them, the sweetest touch, the most bashfully quiet, loving look managed to take her breath away in a way not even their rough, almost primal moments seemed to do.

It was the balance she had always needed. The balance between their contrasts, the ones they created together and those which their differences individually brought to them.

And the balance he brought to her life tasted of love. And the love he brought into her life felt like an embrace with hope.

…

> _let me show you the path when you lose yourself in my eyes,  
>  let me carry you out when you drown in my voice.  
> honey, please promise to always let me be there to catch you when you fall for me._

…

It was late and he had been snoring peacefully for a couple of hours when he woke up.

She was shifting in his arms, carefully lifting the right one from her frame before she quietly slipped out of bed. A soft, protesting grunt escaped him and she turned back, smiling at the small frown above his closed eyes, before she shook her head and padded to the bathroom.

The sudden shift of light burned in her squinted eyes as she sat on the toilet, her eyes just starting to adapt when she rose to her feet again and flushed, gasping harshly when her sight was caught by prominent, purple marks on her skin, starting on her abdomen where his hand had been displayed earlier, wandering down over her hipbones until they faded on her inner thighs that were dotted with small, blue bruises, like a tattoo in the shape of his fingertips.

Slowly, she rolled her thumb over them, her front teeth catching her bottom lip. He had left marks on her before and it was not a big deal, nothing that bothered her. But those were different. Darker and more than ever before, another façade of how this night had not been like the others, or rather the other way around. Because it was better, and the two of them were more. And in this moment, there was no future prospect she had ever desired the same as to wake up like this every day. Every morning introducing her into a life like this, waking her up as his.

She did not notice the smile on her lips, a special one that she had only found in herself three years ago, did not notice the glaze in her eyes before she met her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She eyed herself, taken aback for a minute, before her smile widened and a quiet, soft chuckle escaped her over her own silliness, her own blissful happiness, and over the mere fact that this was real. That tonight had not just been a daydream either one of them could have made up to make their complicated reality that would never lead to a change as pure and as hopeful as this one a little more bearable.

She shook her head and washed her hands before she turned off the light and carefully opened the bathroom door so the sudden rush of light in the room would not wake him up. It was dark and her eyes were struggling to compensate the sudden shift into darkness, her hands blindly reaching for the wooden panelled wall as she attempted not to hit her knees on the bedside table, before she cautiously, as not to move too much in order to let him sleep, slipped back beneath the warm sheets.

Slowly, she turned to face his side, reaching out for him when her touch was met by an empty bedside. A small frown curved her brows and she sat up, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand and finding the bedroom empty.

Sighing, she pushed the covers away and got up again, reaching to the ground for his discarded, dark grey flannel shirt and slipping into it, closing a couple of random buttons and pulling the collar to her face for a small moment.

It smelled peaceful, almost daring her to name it home. A trace of gunpowder meeting the warm smell of pine trees and firewood, nothing artificial hovering over his own natural scent, because he was self-sufficing enough not to need it and proud enough to despise the thought alone.

A short, amused sigh over nothing in particular escaped her before she stepped out of the room, padding barefoot through the hallway until she reached the top of the staircase and heard noises coming out of the kitchen, the water tap running quietly over the mumbling sound of the radio.

She followed the noise and she came to stand in the doorway to his kitchen, finding him standing in front of the stove in his boxers, his back to her while he fumbled with something on the counter.

Quietly, she walked over to him and gently placed her hand on his upper arm, careful not to startle him. He turned to her and cast her a smile.

“Everything okay?”, she asked, and he nodded before he turned back to the two mugs in front of him.

“Figured you could go for a cup of tea.”, he said casually.

And it was beautiful how well he knew her, beautiful that he remembered her old habit of waking up at night and craving a small cup of tea, to drink it in the nightly silence, a moment just for herself, of quiet and peace her normal course of life so often lacked. How beautiful that he cared enough to remember this, that he had even recalled that she had always picked the red ceramic mug in his cupboard that stood on the counter next to the dark grey one he would use.

“I got the vanilla green tea…” He gestured absent-mindedly with a flick of his wrist. “ _stuff_ you like so much.”, he told her, while putting a teaspoon of honey in the red mug before he closed the pot and put it back in the cupboard.

“Thank you.”, she whispered, her hand roaming up to his bare shoulder, and he turned to her in answer.

His eyes wandered from her face down to her legs and up again to show her his widening smile. Then he reached out, his fingers closing around one of the buttons on his flannel shirt she had loosely closed, unbuttoning it and pulling it into the right loop above the one she had tucked it in. “Looks good on you.”, he said, and her lips parted in a toothy smile, before she rose on her tiptoes, her arms slinging around his neck.

Pressing a soft kiss behind his ear, she felt her heartbeat increasing when his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”, she whispered and felt him shake his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She did not know that he would not have wanted to continue sleeping anyway if she had eventually decided to come down here on her own. He’d never wanted to waste a single moment he could share with her, would have taken a single second spent with her over a whole night of sleep. She did not know all that.

But maybe, someday, she would.

Diane’s head rose from his shoulder and she pulled away a little to look at him, a smirk on her lips. “You left bruises on my legs again, you know?”

A playful glint flashed through his beautiful green eyes. “Nothing too bad, I hope.”, he said, and she chuckled.

“No, of course not. But also nothing I can’t force you to make up to me.”

He shook his head. “Always the lawyer.”, he snorted, his heart skipping a beat when her soft giggle joined in the melody of his amusement and the soft rumbling of the water kettle over the low tune of a male singer singing to an acoustic guitar on the radio.

“Yep.”, she chuckled, her eyes beaming up at him while his hands wandered over her back without a path in mind.

“I’m making tea for you, does that make us even?”, he asked, and a bubble of laughter ebbed out of her beautiful lips.

“You’re going to have to try a little harder than that, Mr. McVeigh.”

“Well, what did you have in mind?”, he asked, his gaze captured by the way she was nibbling on her bottom lip in thought, her teeth moving in the tact of the radio song, in the tact of his heart drumming in his chest.

Something in her eyes changed, the prior playfulness in them making room for something deeper, something much more special.

“Would it be tacky to ask you to dance with me?”, she asked coyly, as if she had been reading his mind through the look on his face. And in every other instance, his answer would have been yes.

But something was different tonight. Something between them had shifted and even though it was hard to grasp why, he was certain that he never wanted it to disappear.

He gave her a smile, a wordless answer that turned into certainty when one of his hands left the small of her back and rose beside her, ready for her to take it like it had been all along.

Only this time she was ready to take it.

And he began to sway with her in the tact of the slow guitar song on the radio, her following his pace because she trusted him to lead while he trusted her to follow. Not behind, but right by his side.

Their bare feet wandered over the kitchen tiles, somehow never stepping on each other, even in the semi-darkness of the night. Because it just seemed to work. Against all odds, it just worked in this deep level of understanding between them whose mere existence itself almost seemed absurd. But when they looked into each other’s eyes, it wasn’t. From this perspective, it looked like it had always been the most obvious answer to every single unvoiced question between them of all.

He let her pull him closer, tightened his arm around her in answer when she laid her head on his shoulder again, her breathing warm and steady like nothing could ever cause it to go astray against his neck as he inhaled the flowery scent of her hair.

“I love you so much.”, she suddenly whispered in his ear, her voice softer than her skin, more vulnerable than he had ever heard it.

He leaned up, silently asking her to let him look at her, and she understood. “Something you could get used to?”, he asked, the warm smile on his lips casting shadows over the honest insecurity in the question he would never dare to willingly bring to daylight.

But she saw it anyway. And even though it was scary to think that if she could look right through him like this, he had to be able to do the same with her, right now, when she looked into his deep green eyes, it did not seem all too scary.

Not anymore.

Not at all.

She cast him a smile, soft and gentle as the motion of her thumb on his cheek, a touch as sweet as the sound of her voice.

“Always.”


End file.
